Adèle Dubois | Page 2

opening a closet, took from it a
lacquered Chinese tea-caddy and a silver urn, and proceeded to arrange
the tea-table.
Mr. Norton, observing her attentively with his keen, gray eyes, asked,
"How long has your father lived in this place, my child?"
The maiden paused in her employment, and glancing at the broad,
stalwart form and shrewd yet honest face of the questioner, replied,
"Nearly twenty years, sir".
Mr. Norton's quick ear immediately detected, in her words a delicate,
foreign accent, quite unfamiliar to him. After a moment's silence he
spoke again.
"Dubois,--that is your name, is it not? A French name?"
"Yes, sir, my parents are natives of France".
"Ah! indeed!" responded Mr. Norton, and the family in which he found
himself was immediately invested with new interest in his eyes.
"Where is your father at the present time, my dear child?"
"He is away at Fredericton. He has gone to obtain family supplies. I
hope he is not obliged to be out this stormy night, but I fear he is".
She made the sign of the cross on her breast and glanced upward.
Mr. Norton observed the movement, and at the same time saw, what
had before escaped his notice, a string of glittering, black beads upon
her neck, with a black cross, half hidden by the folds in the waist of her
dress. It was an instant revelation to hint of the faith in which she had
been trained. He fell into a fit of musing.

In the mean time, Adèle Dubois completed her preparations for the
tea-table,--not one of her accustomed duties, but one which she
sometimes took a fancy to perform.
She was sixteen years old,--tall already, and rapidly growing taller,
with a figure neither large, nor slender. Her complexion was pure white,
scarcely tinged with rose; her eyes were large and brown, now shooting
out a bright, joyous light, then veiled in dreamy shadows. A rich mass
of dark hair was divided into braids, gracefully looped up around her
head. Her dress was composed of a plain red material of wool. Her only
ornaments were the rosary and cross on her neck.
A mulatto girl now appeared from the adjoining kitchen and placed
upon the table a dish of cold, sliced chicken, boiled eggs and pickles,
together with the steaming wheaten rolls from the Dutch oven.
Adèle having put some tea in the urn, poured boiling water upon it and
left the room.
Returning in a few minutes, accompanied by her mother and Mrs.
McNab, they soon drew up around the tea-table.
When seated, Mrs. Dubois and Adèle made the sign of the cross and
closed their eyes. Mrs. McNab, glancing at them deprecatingly for a
moment, at length fixed her gaze on Mr. Norton. He also closed his
eyes and asked a mute blessing upon the food.
Mrs. Dubois was endowed with delicate features, a soft, Madonna like
expression of countenance, elegance of movement and a quiet, yet
gracious manner. Attentive to those around the board, she said but little.
Occasionally, she listened in abstracted mood to the beating storm
without.
Mrs. McNab, a middle-aged Scotch woman, with a short, square, ample
form, filled up a large portion of the side of the table she occupied. Her
coarse-featured, heavy fare, surrounded by a broad, muslin cap frill,
that nearly covered her harsh yellow hair, was lighted up by a pair of
small gray eyes, expressing a mixture of cunning and curiosity. Her

rubicund visage, gaudy-colored chintz dress, and yellow bandanna
handkerchief, produced a sort of glaring sun-flower effect, not
mitigated by the contrast afforded by the other members of the group.
"Madam", said Mr. Norton to Mrs. Dubois, on seeing her glance
anxiously at the windows, as the wild, equinoctial gale caused them to
clatter violently, "do you fear that your husband is exposed to any
particular danger at this time?"
"No special danger. But it is a lawless country. The night is dark and
the storm is loud. I wish he were safely at home", replied the lady.
"Your solicitude is not strange. But you may trust him with the Lord.
Under His protection, not a hair of his head can be touched".
Before Mrs. Dubois had time to reply, Mrs. McNab, looking rather
fiercely at Mr. Norton, said, "Yer dinna suppose, sir, if the Lord had
decreed from all eternity that Mr. Doobyce should be drowned, or
rabbed, or murdered to-night, that our prayin' an' trustin' wad cause
Him to revoorse His foreordained purpose? Adely", she continued, "I
dinna mind if I take anither egg an' a trifle more o' chicken an' some
pickle".
By no means taken aback by this pointed inquiry, Mr. Norton replied
very gently, "I believe, ma'am, in the power of prayer to move the
Almighty throne, when it